


and neither should you

by yawnralphio



Series: Fictober20 [22]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Gen, PTSD, character flashback, fictober20, it's not buddie but it's not NOT buddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawnralphio/pseuds/yawnralphio
Summary: A freak accident triggers an unexpected reaction in Eddie.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Fictober20 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967260
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	and neither should you

The smell of cooking turkey always brought Buck unpleasant memories of lonely holidays with his sister. The scent filled his nose the second he stepped out onto the patio, two fresh beers hanging from one hand. Eddie stood beside the pressure cooker, quietly fuming after walking away from a heated discussion with his aunt.

"Guess putting this thing out here just gives us another excuse to get away," Buck mused, offering one of the bottles to Eddie.

He took it, grumbling under his breath as he raised the bottle to his lips. One long sip later, he lowered the bottle and shook his head. "It's bad enough they force me to use this old thing," he said, gesturing to the contraption his aunt had carted over. "They also have to be in charge of everything else. It's my house!"

The only thing missing from Eddie's mini tantrum was a stamp of the foot, but Buck wasn't about to go putting himself in the crosshairs of Eddie's ire. He simply nodded sympathetically, and let Eddie stew in his irritation for a few minutes. They enjoyed the peace and quiet of being outside, away from the half dozen conversations happening in the kitchen.

At least Christopher was entertained.

The distant rumble of conversation was muffled enough by doors and walls that he could almost convince himself they were alone. Normally he hated being alone on the holidays, but being with the Diazes was shaping up to be almost as entertaining as working a double on Halloween.

"Thanks," Eddie sighed, after the annoyance had worked its way out of his system. Buck hadn't said a word.

Buck offered his beer bottle, and Eddie clinked it with his.

Underneath the sound of everything else around them, a low whine caught Buck's attention. It sounded like a hiss, except in reverse. He tilted his head this way and that trying to pinpoint its origin.

Eddie inhaled sharply and dropped his beer bottle. It shattered against the brick. One moment they were standing there, and the next Eddie's body was hitting Buck from the side.

He yelped as they went down, but the sound was drowned out by the explosion of the pressure cooker.

Buck hit the ground hard and grunted when Eddie landed on top of him, forcing all the air from his lungs. Eddie moved instantly, scrambling up Buck's body. He hunched over, tucking his head and shielding Buck's with his torso.

Bits of half cooked turkey slapped into every surface around them. It plastered the side of the house and the roof of the patio covering, and several seconds passed before what was left of the metal pot and lid crashed back down to earth.

"Ow," Buck groaned, once he'd managed to take a breath. He poked Eddie in the ribs to get him to move.

Eddie sat up stiffly. His head turned as he surveyed the damage, never lingering too long on any particular thing. Fragments of turkey fell around them, pulled down by gravity. Buck reached up and plucked the larger pieces out of Eddie's hair.

"Buck?" Eddie said, shaking his head sharply. He shook it again as though trying to dislodge something, but Buck couldn't see any signs of injury from his position.

"Yeah?" Buck replied. They frowned at each other as a commotion broke out inside.

Eddie licked his lips, frowning harder. "What are you doing here?"

"You invited me," Buck reminded him, raising an eyebrow. The line of Eddie's shoulders tensed. He looked around again, a wild look in his eyes that Buck had only seen a handful of times. It made every hair of his body stand on end.

Eddie scrambled to his feet and stayed low, bent at the waist as he hurried toward the patio door. He listened for a few seconds.

"Eddie," Buck said, sitting up. "Do you know where you are?"

"Afghanistan," Eddie muttered. He pressed himself against the wall and slid down into a crouch. "Where's my rifle?"

"No," Buck said carefully. "You're not there anymore." He followed Eddie to his feet, trying to move as slowly as possible. The shift in Eddie's demeanor was always a harsh reminder of how different he'd been in the Army. Buck didn't want to know what he'd seen to evoke such strong reactions in a man.

Eddie's attention snapped back to Buck despite his efforts. A flicker of recognition crossed his face and disappeared just as quickly.

He'd described it once like looking through a kaleidoscope. Memories battled with what was actually in front of him and he could never tell what was real and what wasn't.

He looked at Buck like he wasn't real. The fear in his eyes made Buck's chest ache.

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and some of the usual Eddie returned. He straightened suddenly and took a step forward, seizing two fistfuls of Buck's shirt. They were so close their noses nearly touched, and Buck could feel Eddie's panicked breaths against his lips and chin.

"You shouldn't be here," Eddie whispered. He shook his head again, harder, and growled his frustration when it didn't work. All Buck could see was his eyes, and he hated how wrong they looked.

"And neither should you," Buck said. He set his hands on Eddie's wrists in an attempt to ground him. "You're having a flashback, Eddie. Please take a breath."

Eddie flinched hard when Buck touched him, jostling Buck in his grasp. The ache of hitting the ground was already settling into his backside and the sharp movement made Buck wince, but he didn't let go. He could feel Eddie coiling, tightening like a spring.

"Breathe. What do you see?" Buck asked him, searching his eyes for any sign of recognition.

Eddie let go of Buck and took a step backward. "A house," he said finally. His hands balled at his sides as he looked down at the ground.

"Yes. Your house," Buck nodded. He tried to hold Eddie's gaze, ducking his head to do so. "Where do you live now?"

"Los Angeles," Eddie said, licking his lips. Some of the tension left his shoulders, but he was still breathing too heavily and his stare was empty.

"Yes," Buck said again. "We're in Los Angeles. What do you smell?"

Hope welled in Buck when Eddie wrinkled his nose. He glanced at the bits of turkey still clinging to the roof. "Turkey."

"That's it," Buck encouraged, taking a tentative step forward. He took Eddie's hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. "Now what do you feel?"

Eddie swallowed and nodded silently as his jaw worked. He moved his hand up to Buck's shoulder and pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around him. His whole body began to tremble as he pressed his face into Buck's neck.

"It's okay," Buck whispered, cupping Eddie's neck to keep him there. He rubbed slow circles up and down Eddie's back. "I'm real. I'm here."

As he held Eddie, the door to the patio opened. Abuela poked her head out. She took in the massacred remains of the turkey, the completely broken pressure cooker, and gave Buck a concerned look as she motioned to Eddie.

Buck gave her a thumbs up. She disappeared and the door closed quietly behind her.

"I'm sorry," Eddie mumbled. His grip loosened, but he didn't pull away. Instead he lifted his chin and set it on Buck's shoulder.

"For what?"

Eddie shrugged. "We're gonna need another turkey," he sighed.

"Worse," Buck smirked, barely holding back his laughter. "You have to tell your aunt you blew up her pressure cooker."

Eddie groaned and buried his face again.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://yawnralphio.tumblr.com).
> 
> Reblog [here](https://yawnralphio.tumblr.com/post/632722563796271104/22-and-neither-should-you-fox-911-ptsd).


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